


Dude just hand me the paper

by Waste_Of_Breath



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward, Drabble, at least it's not 3 am lol, mute!dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waste_Of_Breath/pseuds/Waste_Of_Breath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave is mute and sometimes he runs out of paper.  John is horrible at decoding his mixed signals.</p>
<p>(Dude how do I even write a description)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dude just hand me the paper

**Author's Note:**

> well this was written for my friend jenna  
> she requested mute dave being awkward with his muteness because i like to make dave really REALLY awkward and silly  
> so this fic was born  
> it sucks i'm so sorry

Damn was being mute more awkward than you thought.  And you knew it was awkward.  You couldn’t yell to bro to go grab you some toilet paper when you ran out while on the toilet taking a crap.  You couldn’t make rap with Bro.  You couldn’t talk to your friend properly.  Not being able to talk caused some really tough situations.  

You didn’t always have paper on you to write shit down, ya know?  Your sick hand moves confused John so much.  He just didn’t understand.  Well, neither did anyone else, really.  Except Rose.  You could always count on Rose to translate your  ~~unintelligible hand signals if you can even call it that~~  extremely great charade skills.  She understands you.  She doesn’t understand, however, is that you really don’t want to learn sign language.  There’s just a reason you don’t want to do that.  You’re afraid people will judge you and think you are nothing but a handicap, and that’s all that defines you.  But anyway, most of the time, when you ran out of paper, it was when you were with Egbert.

Today you guys were sitting in the school cafeteria, just writing back in forth.  Well, you write, he talks, you write back, that sort of thing.  You were talking about some lame new movie coming out or something.

” Dufe, I hear the ratin’s are off th chart!” He said, taking a huge bite out of his chicken sandwich.  You wipe away some spit that had accumulated on your face during that sentence, a disgusted look on your face.  You turn the page of your notebook to find that there isn’t another page!  Striders don’t freak out.  So you don’t freak out at all.  Nope.  Not you, cool as a cucumber on the coldest day of the winter.  Okay maybe you are freaking out a little bit but not much.

There is absolutely no room.  Not even on the covers.  Dang.  You look pleadingly at John, motioning that your notebook is all full.  He doesn’t even notice you when you elbow him in his side.  He’s practically in love with that chicken sandwich.  He would so make out with it, marry it, make love to it and have kids with that chicken sandwich.  That chicken sandwich is the love of his life and he never regretted meeting her.  Or him.  Whatever.

” Hey dumbass, are you purposely ignoring him or are you so consumed in lust for that chicken sandwich that all other sound, sight, smell, touch, and taste is blocked out by it?” Karkat asked harshly, punching him in the arm.

John finally blinked and set his nearly finished sandwich down on his tray, swallowing loudly.  ” I’m sorry, I just uh, really liked that sandwich.  Damn that was a good sandwich,” John admired, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.  He looked over at you to see what’s the matter.  ” What’s wrong dude?” he asked, that wide smile still on his face.  One of the many Egbertian expressions.

You motioned towards your filled to the brim notebook.  He raised an eyebrow, even though you’ve been through this a thousands times.  ” Just write it down!” He enthused.  Your eyebrows furrow and you give him a frown.  God damn it.  You pick up the notebook and start flipping through the pages.  Some doodles here and there, sometimes you had to write really big to get your point across, more doodles, stupid conversations, and did Rose really steal your notebook to write a fanfiction?  You’re going to have to look at that later and yell at her.  Through pesterchum.  You get a head scratch and a drawn out “Uh….” from John.  Everyone else knows what you’re doing.  You think the light bulb clicked in his brain at last by your “puzzling” actions.  Puzzling my ass.  Your hand signals and movements and hints were about as clear as the way he falls in love with his food. Everyday.

” Oh!  You ran out of paper!  Alright, no problem, Dave, I got it,” John waved it off like no big deal.  It really wasn’t a big deal, actually.  You know, just your way of communicating everything and anything.  He always kept a binder just for extra notebooks and papers for you.  You don’t even know why he carries it instead of you.  It would probably be more efficient if you carried it around, since you’re the one who uses it.  Oh well, don’t question the intentions of John.  It’s simply not a thing someone does.  ” Oh come on!” John groaned, closing the binder before you can even get a look inside.  It has to be the worst.  You brace yourself for it.  You slam your head onto the table.  Well, really, your head ended up in the drenched salad on your tray.


End file.
